2000-03-13 - 01:13:27

The air is becoming greener every day more so than the grass and bulbs, the air is warming and so are the hearts of every Irishman in Denver. We don't have to take a census to find out the percent of the people in this city who are Irish. Begorra, we all are. The St. Paddy's day march will begin in the staid area of downtown then cross over and come up the street and end near to all the bars. If I remember Shaner's was the headquarters of the ? belligerent ? Irish. So, is there any other kind on St. Patrick's day, bless his beloved soul ? My uncle once said that an Irishman is one who with a smile can beat the bejaysus out of you and leave you thinking how wonderful that man was. ? He took after his dad, and he was mercurial, he could cry at the drop of an eyelash, become enraged over nothing one moment and a polished diplomat the next. He would best me in a game of checkers and charm me into a feeling of having won the game. I have been told that my maternal grandfather was a man from the ould sod who claimed to be a political refugee - - - good grief, after reading the news for years and years, it's a wonder that all the people in Ireland don't become refugees and leave that darn country empty. I remember about twelve or so years ago, I was delivering flowers out near Parker, Colorado for Mother's Day and had a beautiful flower arrangement addressed to a woman with a very Irish name, I asked directions from a man standing in his yard, the conversation went about like this, "Sir, could you please tell me where Mrs. O'hara lives ?" The man stood looking at me and the arrangement I was holding and growled, "Just who the livin' hell wants to know ?" Trying to do a rapid fire bit of calculation of the odds, I figured there was a good chance of getting knocked around a bit. The situation in itself was a little comical and I couldn't help having a grin on my face when I said, "Well, I have this flower arrangement to be deivered to her." With a grudging grunt he nodded toward the house and said, "She lives in there." I eased myself into the yard and up to the door, knocked and when the woman answered I said, "I have some flowers for Mrs. O'hara," she nodded and started opening the screen door and being in a sneaky mood I said, "Your husband said you were at the house." She smiled and said, "He spoke to you did he now ?" I smiled back and said, "In a way he did." She was still laughing when she went into the house. And I still don't know, tho I suspect that feisty man in the yard was Mr. O'Hara." Names changed to protect the innocent, namely me. In honor to the saint on his day I will drink one glass of green beer on his day. yecch !

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